Death to Dylan
by CrazyNerdyFangirl
Summary: Title pretty much self-explanatory. Each chapter is a different random way for Dylan to die, because I hate Dylan. Used to be a one-shot. T for language. R & R?
1. Assassin

**AN: I don't know where this story takes place. All I know is that it takes place sometime after FANG. I just **_**had**_** to kill Dylan. Warning: This is not my best work. At all. I just had to do something let out my anger. Dylan is purposely kind of OOC. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride. End of story. **

The bright summer day was utterly beautiful, but the beauty was marred by the atrocious boy skipping down the pebbled path like a silly, brainless schoolgirl. Even with all of the flying lessons he'd gotten from Max, he was still an epic fail at flying. He still thought he was Max's perfect other half even though she had rejected him many times already. Sometimes, you just wanted to hit him on the head and tell him to find some other girl to obsess over. His name was Dylan.

Most people would love for him to be locked up somewhere far, far away from civilization and any bird kids whose relationships he might destroy. Let's all hope someone will finally kill him off once and for all.

And that was the job of the girl hiding in the bushes along the path. The assassin narrowed her eyes as she looked at the boy from her hiding place. Some people would consider him "hot" with his lean body, thick, dark blonde hair, and turquoise eyes. But to the assassin, he was just a combination of flesh, bone, extreme stupidity, and wings. But it was the assassin's job to kill him, and she would complete that job happily. When she had been offered this job, she had taken it without a second thought. She didn't know why she hated Dylan so much. Maybe it was because he had a way with destroying any good relationships he came across? Nah. That _couldn't _be it.

Dylan's arrogance and plethora of incompetence had marked him as the next victim on the assassin's hit list. The assassin gripped her weapon and smiled cruelly. She was holding the rustiest and sharpest knife she could find.

"Hahahahaha. Fang is gone…Max will be mine!" Dylan said to himself in a singsong-y voice. The assassin felt her blood boil. He had caused so many fangirls to hate Fang. He was the reason Fang had left Max. He was smiling happily, and the assassin decided that she would have fun wiping that smile off his face. The assassin brushed her straight black hair out of her eyes to glare at Dylan more easily.

She felt slightly sorry for him—he was in love with a girl he would never get, but she hated him more than she felt sympathy for him. It was his time to die.

The assassin leaped out from behind the bushes she was hiding behind and wielded the knife in front of her. Her eyes were blazing with cold fury and she wanted to stab Dylan right then and there, but she resisted. She wanted to hear his last words.

She had wanted to make Dylan die slowly and painfully, but all intentions of that flew out the window when she realized how much she hated him. She wanted him to feel pain, but she also wanted him to die as soon as possible.

"It's your time to die, Dylan!" she yelled with a maniacal laugh. She realized that her last sentence would have sounded so much better if she could have included a last name for Dylan. Oh, well.

"B-but, what did I ever do wrong?" Dylan asked pathetically. He looked as defenseless as a lost animal and for a moment, the assassin began to have second thoughts. But those doubts disappeared almost immediately.

"Exist. That's what you did wrong!" the assassin retorted, gripping the knife harder.

Dylan barely had time to widen his eyes before the assassin stabbed him in the chest with the knife as hard as she could. She cackled evilly and jumped up and down in joy. Dylan fell to the ground.

"He's dead! He's dead! I'm a genius!" She started happy dancing, which is basically jumping up and down like a mentally retarded person. But Dylan wasn't dead yet. His life was seeping out of him with the blood that spurted out of his incredibly deep wound. The life was fading from his eyes. But he was still alive.

Using his last remaining strength, he managed to croak out two words. "Fuck you." He attempted to glare at his killer but only managed to look like an ugly little puppy.

The assassin only gave him a pitying look. "Oh, just fnick yourself in hell where you belong" she said venomously.

Dylan's eyes unfocused for a little bit. The assassin heard him murmur something incoherent that sounded suspiciously like it was about purple penguins and vampire carrots. Dylan mustered the last of his strength to give the assassin one last glare and died. She enjoyed seeing the last remnants of life fade out of those "beautiful" turquoise eyes.

And who knows? Maybe he _will_ fnick himself in hell.

The assassin pulled the bloody knife out of Dylan's body and gave him a contemptuous look. She stroked the knife like it was a particularly sharp yet loveable pet of hers even though it was still bloody. She didn't think it was what a normal, sane person would do, but whatever. Whoever said that she was normal?

Strangely, the assassin didn't feel guilt or any of the feelings a sane person should feel when they had just committed a murder. Instead, she felt a desperate urge to eat some cookies. Ah, there was nothing better than eating some cookies to make yourself feel better after you've just killed someone you hate.

"Bye, Dylan," the assassin said cheerfully. She gave a small wave goodbye to Dylan's dead body. With a last look at Dylan's body, the assassin walked away to get herself some chocolate chip cookies.

**AN: Well, **_**that**_** was strange. Weirdly, that was kind of therapeutic for me. At least now I don't want to stab Dylan's eyes out. I don't actually expect anyone to review this. But if you do review, I'm not complaining…**

**Review?**


	2. Awesome Ninjas of Pure Awesomeness

**AN: I've decided to continue this. Each chapter is going to be a different way for Dylan to die. I just like killing Dylan, okay? I had another sudden urge to kill Dylan today. Yes, I'm violent and have anger management issues. I probably need therapy…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own MR. *breaks down crying***

One thing Dylan had never expected to happen to him was getting killed by ninjas. And Dylan was a human-avian hybrid; he'd seen a lot of strange things in his short, pathetic life. He'd seen a man regrow a finger. He'd seen a girl heal a deep wound in a matter of seconds.

But black-clad ninjas who seemed to come straight out of a Japanese action movie? Never.

He'd always thought ninjas were pretty cool. How they moved silently. How they could blend into the shadows perfectly. How they made unnecessary noises when killing someone.

Yes, Dylan thought ninjas were pretty dang awesome.

But maybe his opinion of ninjas would change today.

Three men and a woman, all three of them dressed in black ninja suits, approached the large house in Colorado warily, hoping nobody would notice them. These people were professionals, and they were naturally stealthy. They knew how to keep quiet, how to stay inconspicuous and unnoticed.

Well, all of them except for one.

"I'm hungry. Can we stop to get some sushi?" one of the men asked. He was a bit…fatter than the others and didn't seem to be focused on the mission at all. Instead, he was picking his nose. His companions sincerely hoped he would wash his hands before he decided to eat _anything._

"NO," the woman hissed. "We're on a mission here. A _mission_. We're not here to have fun."

"But I didn't ask for this. You people dragged me here!" the man protested.

"Well, deal with it," she retorted venomously.

The man sighed and his shoulders slumped in defeat. All he wanted to do was go home and watch TV. Maybe he shouldn't have even _considered_ becoming a ninja as a possible career choice. It was too late to go back out now. Once a ninja took an oath to be a ninja, he or she was in for life. He wondered if he would still be a ninja when he was an old man with a beard. Hopefully not.

Lost in his thoughts, he had strayed far behind the other three. One of the other two men glared at him. "Get your ass over here. We can't wait for you forever!"

Yes, "Get your ass over here" is something a typical ninja would say.

The man who was behind hurried to catch up to the other three. He was sweaty. Black clothing was _very_ impractical for such a hot day. Why must ninjas always wear black? Oh, wait. He had the answer to that. It just plain looked cool.

"So what's the plan?" he asked when he caught up. He was panting; running fast was not a talent of his. In fact, he was bad at anything a ninja would have to do regularly. The other three gave him disgusted looks.

"We've gone over this countless times. You weren't listening?" the woman asked. She was the one in charge here. The man started to open his mouth to answer, but the woman cut him off "Shut up," she said, "I don't want to know what you were doing when you were supposedly listening."

The man had an urge to say, "Your mom" as a joke, but he resisted. He didn't _want_ to die.

When the man didn't answer, the woman rolled her eyes and continued. "We're going to wait until Dylan goes outside to fly. He has to come outside alone _sometime_. When he does, we're going to ambush him and…kill him." The woman rubbed her hands together evilly and there was a demented look in her eyes. The man backed away slightly. Well, he didn't want to make _her_ mad.

"So what do we do now?" he asked.

"We stay here and wait." She gestured to a couple of trees. "Hide behind them," she instructed.

The men sighed. This woman was bossy, but they would have to put up with her. She was the best fighter in their group, as much as the men hated to admit it. So they headed over to the trees to start their long wait.

They hadn't even waited five minutes before the slightly fat man began to complain again. "I want sushi. Now!" As if to emphasize his last statement, his stomach growled. "See?"

"Shut the hell up!" the woman hissed back. She slapped his cheek hard. There was a red mark on the man's cheek where her hand made contact with it and the man pouted. He had just been slapped by a _female. _

Suddenly, something that looked like a teenager with wings on his back jumped out the window of the house. He started flapping his wings in a desperate attempt to stay aloft. He fell a few feet, but managed to rise again before he hit the ground. Oh, what a shame.

The woman smiled. "Time to die, Dylan," she whispered under her breath. There was obvious menace in her voice.

"So, he's flying… How are we supposed to catch him? _We_ can't fly," one of the men asked.

"Wait for it…" she whispered. Dylan began dropping again, and this time, he seemed too tired to try to stay in the air. He landed, and the ninjas saw their chance to attack. "Dylan hasn't known how to fly for very long. He was bound to get tired eventually," the woman explained. She pulled a black piece of cloth over her face to hide it and took her sword out of its sheath. The three men mimicked her actions.

"Ready to kill someone?" she asked. The men nodded and prepared themselves.

The ninjas ran toward Dylan swiftly. He was sitting on the ground, tired. In minutes, they had him surrounded.

He looked at the black-clad figures in surprise. "You're ninjas! Have you come to take me to Ninja-land to become a ninja?" he asked, his eyes wide and innocent.

The woman growled. "NO! We're here to kill you!"

"Yeah!" the men yelled simultaneously. The woman glared at them.

"But I'm so awesome! Why would you kill me?" Dylan asked, looking like he was on the verge of tears.

"BECAUSE WE'RE VIOLENT AND HAVE ANGER ISSUES!" the woman yelled.

"Well…that's nice. Can I at least know your names?" he asked, trying to stall for time.

The woman glared at Dylan suspiciously, but then shrugged. "Ah, whatever. You're going to die anyway. I'm Sayaka."

"I'm Hisuku," one of the men said.

"I'm Seki," one of the other men said.

"I'm Bob!" the man who had previously wanted sushi said cheerfully.

The other ninjas looked at him. "I _told_ you to change your name," Hisuku said.

Bob shrugged. "I like my name!" Bob said defensively.

Dylan looked at Bob, amused. "The other ninjas have cool names. And your name is…Bob." If he wasn't about to be killed, he would have burst out laughing.

Bob narrowed his eyes at Dylan. "Big mistake, Dylan," he hissed. Dylan widened his eyes a little. "No one makes fun of my name and lives!"

And before Dylan could say "Mommy!" Bob ran his sword through Dylan's cold heart. As Dylan's now-dead body fell to the ground, Sayaka turned toward Bob angrily.

"He was _mine_ to kill! MINE!" she yelled, grabbing his shoulders. There was murderous fury in her eyes and she shook his shoulders hard. She was definitely the most violent of the group.

Bob looked sheepish. "Oopsies," he said with a small smile.

**AN: Wow, Dylan got killed by a ninja named Bob. It was just a random idea I had. So, what did you think? Ideas are welcome. **


	3. Navy SEALs

**AN: Hey people. I haven't updated this in 2 weeks. I don't have a good reason, other than the fact that I've been too lazy to update this. I didn't feel like killing Dylan. I was too busy killing Chris Columbus. But I just reread FANG and I want to kill Dylan again! The Navy SEALs thing was The Layman's idea, so I take no credit for it. He thought of the names too. When I first started writing this, I was going to make this the first really serious chapter. But I had to finish writing (not typing) at 1 in the morning, so this chapter took a turn for the random. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, nor do I own the Navy SEALs, though I totally wish I did. **

The boy was inside the house innocently playing a card game meant for two people by himself. Why? Well, it was because the boy happened to like playing card games meant for two people by himself. Nobody would ever know _why_, of course. Maybe it was because he was slightly delusional.

He was unaware that he was about to meet his death.

The team of Navy SEALs was watching his every move, wondering when they could strike upon the boy. It seemed strange that a team of the Navy's best people had been sent to kill one seemingly "innocent" boy. Of course, there was nothing "innocent" about him. If he was so "innocent", would so many people be after him? I think not.

The team of Navy SEALs had snuck onto the roof of the house in Colorado without being noticed by the bird-kids who lived there. How? Well, they were a team of government operatives. Do you really think they would reveal their secrets?

Currently, Lieutenant Colonel Everyman (who was also their sniper) was looking at one of the windows of the house with his binoculars. He was sitting still, and had been sitting still for so long that the members of his team were wondering if he was still alive. He was obviously waiting for something to come out of that window. Something. Or someone.

"How much longer?"Lieutenant Nerdgirl asked impatiently. She had never been good at being patient but she was good at hand-to-hand combat. That was what had earned her a place on the team.

"Patience," Private Heavens said, even though she was quite impatient to start fighting and possibly killing someone herself. She was the one in charge of explosives, and she was anxious to start using them.

Private Sub-terrain sighed. "We've been here for four hours. He's not coming out anytime soon. Why don't we just give up and come back another day…" she trailed off, uncertain.

"No." Lt. C. Everyman's reply was short, simple, and to the point. So he _wasn't _dead after all.

"Fine," Lt. Nerdgirl, Private Heavens, and Private Sub-terrain answered reluctantly.

"But I want the binoculars," Lt. Nerdgirl said. "I want to stare at the window pointlessly for a while too."

"No, _I'm _in command," was Everyman's reply.

"But you've had the binoculars _forever_," Nerdgirl whined. Everyman knew she wouldn't stop complaining until he gave the binoculars to her, so he handed them to her hesitantly.

"Just don't break them. They're top-of-the-line," he warned.

Lt. Nerdgirl held the binoculars to her eyes. "Okay," she mumbled.

Lt. C. Everyman shook his head, knowing full well that she was probably clumsy enough to break the binoculars. Anytime she wasn't fighting, she was extremely clumsy. They were just lucky she wasn't clumsy all the time. If she was, this mission would probably go down the drain.

"Have you set up the explosives?" Private Sub-terrain asked Private Heavens.

"Of course!" She sounded insulted that anyone had even considered that she hadn't done her job. She had laid out an intricate pattern of explosives around Dylan's window that would blow up Dylan's room as soon as the window was opened. She only hoped that Dylan would be the one to open that window, not another member of the flock. If that happened…well, let's just say that she would be in a whole shitload of trouble. She also had to hope that no one else would be in the room with Dylan. Considering that most of the flock members were avoiding Dylan after Fang had left, Private Heavens didn't have to worry much.

"The subject has left the room. The subject has left the room," Lt. Nerdgirl said frantically. She lowered the binoculars, looking at the rest of the team. "He left the room. Now what are we going to do?"

"We wait for him to come back." Lt. C. Everyman said, though he sounded slightly unsure of himself.

Everybody groaned and sat back, preparing themselves for many more long hours of waiting. Why had they agreed to this mission in the first place?

"Oh, I just remembered! I brought food!" Private Sub-terrain reached into a black bag and pulled out some cookies, which the members of her team immediately grabbed.

After everyone had eaten a few bites of the delicious, heavenly cookies, Private Heavens realized something very important. "Should we really be eating on a mission? The cookies could distract us from our target."

There were a few seconds of silence as everyone gave this observation some thought. Maybe they _weren't_ supposed to be eating cookies…but the cookies were so delicious…and they were hungry.

"Huh. Well, whatever. Nobody will ever know. Whatever happens on this mission stays between us," Lt. C. Everyman said.

Everyone nodded in agreement. Lt. C. Everyman pulled out a rifle from its strap, which was attached to his back. "I just want to be prepared in case he shows up," he said to assure everyone that he wasn't going to use the gun to kill any of them.

After he finished his cookie, he grabbed the rifle because he felt better with it in his hand. Apparently, he liked guns. The rifle—like the binoculars—was top-of-the-line. Everything the team had was the best. The best weapons, the best explosives, the best cookies…

He held the gun in the way he would need to shoot it. He positioned it so that it was aiming at Dylan's bedroom's window so he'd be ready to shoot it at a moment's notice. Part of it was purposely hanging over the edge of the roof. He turned his back to the others, staring at Dylan's window.

"Hey, that's _my_ cookie!" Private Heavens exclaimed suddenly.

"I brought the cookies! You're glad I even shared at all!" Private Sub-terrain retorted.

"Well, I'm the awesomest, so the last cookie should be mine!" Lt. Nerdgirl said.

Great. Now they were fighting over who had the right to eat the last cookie. At least they had the common sense to keep their voices relatively low. Lt. C. Everyman rolled his eyes. Under different circumstances, he would want the cookie himself (who doesn't love cookies?), but he had other things to worry about.

"It's mine!" Private Heavens' voice was louder now. She tried to grab the cookie from Private Sub-terrain, who currently had possession of it, but couldn't eat it because Lt. Nerdgirl would slap her every time she brought it to her mouth. She tried getting somewhere far away from the rest of her team to eat the cookie in peace, but Private Heavens and Lt. Nerdgirl were blocking her escape.

Private Heavens made a desperate lunge for the cookie in Sub-terrain's hand, but missed. She cursed. Private Sub-terrain was trying to move away from Nerdgirl and Heavens, so she was approaching Lt. C. Everyman.

Lt. Nerdgirl's hand shot out toward Sub-terrain quickly, hoping that she could grab the cookie. But Sub-terrain moved out of the way at the last minute, making Nerdgirl accidentally hit Everyman instead. He was caught by surprise and accidentally released his hold on the rifle. It fell from his hands…

…and over the edge of the roof.

"Oops…" Lt. Nerdgirl muttered.

"I'll go get it," Private Heavens volunteered, rolling her eyes. She was about to climb off the rooftop to get the gun, but before she could, the front door of the house opened. A winged shape flew from the front door to the ground, landing right next to the gun Everyman had dropped. The winged shape was Dylan.

The Navy SEALs were in a heckload of shit.

Dylan leaned down, picking up the gun. He was looking at it reverently. Apparently, he liked guns too. He was cradling the gun carefully in his hands. There was no way Everyman could get his gun back without letting Dylan know they were out to get him. Damn. They had counted on the element of surprise. And he hadn't opened the window, making the explosives Heavens had set up useless.

"We have other weapons, right?" Lt. C. Everyman asked. He was sure that they would have other weapons. They were an experienced team of Navy SEALs. Of course they would've brought backup weapons, right?

"Ummm…well…" Private Sub-terrain mumbled.

"What do you mean by that?" Lt. C. Everyman questioned.

"Well, I kind of forgot them in my rush to get the cookies…" Sub-terrain said, looking at her feet.

Lt. Nerdgirl whispered something unprintable.

"So now what do we do?" Private Heavens said exasperatedly.

"We wait and see if Dylan will accidentally kill himself with the gun," Nerdgirl suggested. Everyone peered over the edge of the roof. Dylan was pointing the gun at random things but wasn't shooting at them. He didn't look like he had any intention of killing himself anytime soon.

Everyone sat in silence for a minute, wondering how the heck they were supposed to kill Dylan now. Suddenly, Private Sub-terrain brightened. "Cookies!"

Lt. C. Everyman shook his head. "No. Now is not the time to eat!"

"No, I mean there were some really bad, inedible cookies in the bag. They're really hard, like baseball bats! We can use them as weapons." Sub-terrain sounded excited.

Everyone looked at Sub-terrain like she was crazy.

"You want to defeat Dylan with cookies?" Lt. C. Everyman asked Sub-terrain slowly, as if worried about her sanity.

"Do you have a better idea?" Private Sub-terrain asked, raising her eyebrows.

Everyone sighed and each grabbed some cookies. Lt. Nerdgirl widened her eyes. "Wow. This feels like one of those cookies they serve in school cafeterias."

"Uh, I think that's where I got them," Sub-terrain admitted. Nerdgirl looked at her cookies disgustedly.

"Okay, the plan is that we go down there and throw these cookies at him. Understood?" Everyman asked. Everyone nodded.

"Okay. Let's do this thing." Everyone climbed down from the roof, finding handholds and footholds on the wall of the house. They snuck up on Dylan, who was still staring at the gun, unaware of his adversaries.

That was when Private Heavens threw the first cookie. It made solid contact with Dylan's head. Dylan looked surprised and started rubbing the spot where the cookie hit him. He started to turn in the direction the cookie had come from. But before he could turn all the way, another cookie hit his cheek, this time one thrown by Lt. Nerdgirl. Dylan looked surprised again. These cookies caused a surprising amount of pain. The operatives strategically kept of out Dylan's line of vision.

Before Dylan really knew what was happening, he was hit with on onslaught of cookies. Private Sub-terrain had brought a plethora of these cookies. They threw them at Dylan as hard as they could, each one hitting its mark. Dylan was caught off guard, so he didn't even think of using his gun.

Within a few minutes, Dylan was unconscious and there were no more cookies. They stood glaring at Dylan's unconscious form.

"Back away," Private Heavens said, walking up to Dylan and placing something on his back. The others backed away, as commanded, for they assumed the object was a bomb. Private Heavens was in charge of explosives after all. After exactly 10 seconds, the bomb detonated and Dylan blew up. All that was left of him were some chunks of his body that were scattered around the front of the house. "You know, we could have just used the bomb instead of the cookies," Lt. C. Everyman said, looking at Private Heavens.

"I forgot about the bomb," Private Heavens said sheepishly.

"Hey, where's Private Sub-terrain?" Lt. Nerdgirl said suddenly. Everyone looked around. She had been here before, but now she was gone. Where was she?

Suddenly, a black SUV drove up to them. The window rolled down and Sub-terrain poked her head out of it. "Get in," she said, with a smile.

The others decided not to ask her about how she had gotten an SUV so quickly and just got in the car.

**AN: So, review? Please? I'm begging you! Ideas are welcome. Can anyone guess who the people in this chapter are? The Layman based their names off people on this site. Let me give you a hint, if you read my story Therapy for Maximum Ride Addicts, they're all in it. If you're one of the people, it shouldn't be too hard to figure out. You know what stinks? My Wi-Fi isn't working. I still have Internet, but no Wi-Fi. I usually read new chapters and reply to messages on my iPod when I'm supposed to be asleep, but since that requires Wi-Fi, I can't do that anymore. I'll try to read chapters on my family computer still, but I won't be able to read all of them very fast. CURSE YOU, WHATEVER MADE MY WI-FI STOP WORKING! **

**Review? **


	4. Angel's Mind Control

**AN: Hey, new chapter! This is something one of my anonymous reviewers who called himself/herself "im weird. i know that." came up with. Whoever you are, I modified some things. I hope that's okay. This idea was just so funny that I had to use it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride and I also don't own the "Death by Angel's Mind Control" idea. **

Dylan never thought the end of his days would come in the form of a 6—no, 7—year-old. He had always liked to imagine that he would die a hero, someone everyone looked up to. He had always wanted to die for a good cause, because that was just the kind of person Dylan was. If he couldn't die for a good cause, Dylan hoped that he would at least be killed by some adversary no one had ever defeated before. That would take away the humiliation of dying.

But never ever in his whole life (which was undeniably short) had he ever wanted to die in the hands (not literally) of a 7-year-old mind reader.

Dylan was going Wal-Mart to buy some groceries for the flock. In truth, the flock had just wanted to get rid of him because his constant pretty boy-ness was starting to get on their nerves. But Dylan didn't know that. He was still unaware that he was so annoying. He still thought that everyone loved him.

He was outside of the supermarket, about to go inside.

Suddenly, he felt a sudden pain in his right cheek. His cheek started heating up. At first, Dylan didn't even notice the unnatural warmth. But as his cheek rose in temperature, he began to notice the pain. He rubbed his cheek, hoping that the pain would go away, but his cheek continued to hurt. _What the hell,_ he thought. He looked around to see if anyone was doing this to him. But the only people around were a few people going into the supermarket and a few bored looking teenagers leaning against the wall. None of them looked like they were causing the pain in his cheek. But then, he knew never to underestimate anyone.

Suddenly, Dylan's vision began to blur. He couldn't see anything clearly. His vision started to be filled by a blend of colors. The colors were mesmerizing and Dylan thought they looked pretty. But their prettiness did not make up for the fact that they were impairing his vision. He could see, but everything was in strange colors, blurry, and distorted.

Dylan tried to walk toward the front doors of the supermarket, but his feet didn't obey him. He couldn't move. He was stuck. It was like his feet were blocks of some particularly heavy metal. Dylan didn't normally cuss, but right then he decided that cussing was okay. He let out a few choice cuss words.

His feet wouldn't budge, but he could move his arms. He waved them around frantically, looking like a complete idiot. The teenagers leaning on the wall began to look at him strangely, like they had never seen anything like this before.

Oh, wait. They probably hadn't.

"What the fuck is that idiot doing?" one of the teenagers said. He looked "emo", as people would say. He was wearing dark clothes and had too-long black hair. He almost looked like Fang, but with paler skin.

"What a freak!" another teenager said, this time a girl with blonde hair. She looked like the cheerleader/slut type, with her short pink skirt and low rise top. She took out her cell phone and took a picture of Dylan struggling to move. She was laughing hard, so her cell phone was shaking. Dylan was glad that the pictures would probably be blurry. Then, she stopped laughing for a little bit and looked like she had just had an interesting revelation. "Well, actually, a pretty hot freak. I must get his number."

She walked up to Dylan, who she had nicknamed "the mental hot dude" in her mind. Dylan looked at her with wide eyes. "Hi! I'm Lissa!" she said in an overly perky voice. She stuck her boobs out just slightly.

Dylan couldn't control what he was saying. "Moobaflipper," he blurted.

_What the hell,_ Lissa thought. _This dude is more mental than I thought_. "What?" Lissa asked out loud.

"I'm prettyful!" Dylan cried. He started flapping his arms like a deranged bird. Lissa slapped his cheek, leaving a red mark.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she yelled. The slap didn't hurt Dylan physically; it just hurt his pride.

Dylan wanted to apologize to the Lissa girl, but couldn't. Somebody was controlling him, and he had no idea who. But he knew that when he found out who it was, he was going to do something bad to them. Something very, very bad. Like take all their bacon. Whoever it was, he or she wouldn't be able to survive without bacon. Who would?

A song started playing in Dylan's head with no warning. Nobody else could hear it; it was in Dylan's head and Dylan's head only. It was Just Dance by Lady GaGa. He had always hated that song, though it was strangely catchy. He had a sudden urge to start dancing, to move to the beat of the horrible-yet-catchy song.

He tried to resist, but in the end, he couldn't. He started dancing. But dancing alone wasn't enough for him. He grabbed Lissa's waist and pulled her to him. She looked at him with a horrified expression on her face.

"Let go of me you perv!" Lissa struggled in Dylan's arms and tried to get free. But Dylan was genetically enhanced—he was much stronger than Lissa.

"JUST DANCE," he screamed at the top of his lungs. Now other people going into the supermarket were beginning to notice. Some were taking their cell phones out and were taking videos of the mental kid. This would be all over YouTube the next day. Oh, the joys of the internet.

"Get your hands off of me," Lissa screamed. She didn't want to have videos of her dancing with a crazy guy all over the internet.

With no warning, Dylan let Lissa go. "Goodbye, my brethren!" he said. Then he ran away from Wal-Mart, leaving the customers wondering what the hell had just happened. Lissa fixed her hair, which had become slightly messed up.

"Well, at least he was hot," she said to herself.

* * *

Dylan flew to a cliff. He didn't know where the cliff was, all he knew was that somebody was inside his mind and had forced him to go there. He didn't want to go to the cliff. In general, he wanted to stay away from cliffs. Bad things could happen on cliffs.

But he flew there anywhere, unable to fight against whatever was controlling his mind. The mind controller directed him to the edge of the cliff. He knew something bad was going to happen. It was just a feeling, but bird-kids learned to not ignore their instincts.

He started singing. "I believe I can fly! I believe I can touch the sky!" Then he jumped off the cliff…

forgetting to open his wings.

And so he went _splat_ on the hard, unforgiving ground, never to rise again.

* * *

Angel almost laughed as she watched Dylan jump off the cliff. She knew that most 7-year-olds wouldn't laugh at death, but it was just so dang funny. And to think, Angel had caused his death. She couldn't wait to tell Max about this.

**AN: Well, that was random. Probably not very funny, but whatever. Review?**


	5. Death by Twilight

**AN: I felt like ranting about Twilight so here's Death by Twilight. There are just way too many similarities between MR and Twilight. **

Nudge looked up from the book she was reading and at the boy sitting on the couch next to her. She was holding Breaking Dawn, the fourth Twilight novel. Even though many fanfiction writers depicted Nudge as an obsessed Twilight fan, in actuality, she was not. She liked the series _enough_, but wasn't obsessed. Why would she be obsessed with something that had a Mary-Sue main character and sparkly gay vampires?

Nudge looked at what Dylan was reading. An Alex Rider novel. Nudge knew that Dylan was great in his own way, but she suspected that he just probably wished that he was as awesome as Alex Rider.

Max was probably up in her room, plotting ways to kill Fang when she met him 20 years from now. And from Max's constant ramblings, Nudge knew that a lot of those ways were _very_ creative. Max had cried for about a week, but now she was all better. Sort of. She was still mad at Dylan, and nothing the rest of the flock said or did would change that. As much as Max hated to admit it, she missed Fang terribly and wanted to get revenge on Dylan for saying those things to make him leave.

Nudge looked at the book she was reading and began to have an idea.

"Hey, Dylan," Nudge said. Dylan looked up from his book and looked at Nudge. He smiled. Sometimes, his smile got _very_ annoying.

"Hi, Nudge!" he said brightly.

Nudge smiled wickedly, but Dylan didn't notice. "There's a book I _really_ want you to read. It's really good…" Nudge trailed off, looking at Dylan hopefully.

Dylan had no idea what was coming, so he just said, "Sure."

Nudge almost felt sorry for him. He was about to lose his manliness, if he had any to start with. "Twilight."

Dylan paled. That one word was enough to strike terror into his heart. That one book had taken over the minds of innocent teenage girls everywhere.

It was even worse than Justin Bieber, if that was possible.

It had captivated them with its tales of a sparkly gay pedophile and his human lover. Yeah, right. Real vampires don't sparkly beautifully in the sun. The whole romance was totally unrealistic and the characters were one-dimensional. Some people actually classified the series as "horror". Ha, what a joke. It was as scary as a pink fairy princess. In other words, it _wasn't scary at all_.

Dylan gulped. "Do I have to?" he asked. He looked at Nudge, extremely scared for his well-being.

"Yeah," Nudge said, nodding. "Wait here," she said. She ran upstairs to get her copy of Twilight while Dylan sat there on the couch, still looking scared. It seemed that he looked scared quite often, especially when there were any mentions of Justin Bieber or Twilight.

After a few minutes, Nudge came back downstairs. She was holding her copy of Twilight. Was the cover picture supposed to be symbolic of something? If so, it was an epic fail. All it did was make Dylan hungry. Hm, apples…

Dylan took the book tentatively, almost afraid that it would do something bad to him if he touched it. Surprisingly, it didn't. Nudge looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to open the book. He looked at her pleadingly one last time, hoping against all hope that she wouldn't make him do it. But Nudge nodded once. And that one nod sealed his fate.

He opened the book slowly. He looked at the words on the first page, but didn't begin reading yet. He didn't want to be sucked into this world of sparkly fairies (there are no vampires in Twilight; only sparkly fairies). Nudge cleared her throat, signaling him to start reading The-Book-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Even Voldemort was less scary than this book.

And Dylan got sucked into the world of Twilight.

The first few pages weren't so bad; they were maybe even enjoyable. At least it was well-written and provided suspense. But it only went downhill from there. Bella was an okay character until she started speaking. Dylan wanted to yell out and call her a Mary Sue but suppressed the urge. He would look quite crazy yelling at a fictional book character, after all.

Dylan thought it couldn't get any worse, but he was wrong. Dylan had been forced to watch the movie, but it was nothing compared to this…this atrocity. At least the movie couldn't show all of Bella's thoughts. Dylan knew the three things _Bella_ knew about Edward, but these were the three things _Dylan_ knew about him:

He's a pedophile.

He's gay and a stalker. (Who watches girls sleep?)

And he didn't sound like an undead Romeo. More like a broken record. Everything he said was basically a different variation of the same basic phrase. "Bella, I love you."

Dylan almost wanted to tell Edward to get a life, but he was afraid of sounding like a hypocrite. Dylan was a fast reader, and he was thankful for that. At least he would be able to get through this absolute _nightmare_ quickly. When he was about ¾ through the book, his eyes started itching. Dylan rubbed them. His eyes starting hurting badly, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the book. It was like an addiction, his own personal brand of heroin.

SHIT! Now he was even starting to quote the book.

Finally, he got through the long and tedious prom scene and reached the end, where Edward promised to love Bella forever. It was sad, really. Edward was a freaking _vampire_. He could be running around scaring the crap out of humans, but instead, he chose to fall in love with a human girl. Dylan set the book down with a happy sigh, relieved that he was done with it.

"So how was it?" Nudge asked him. Nudge was still sitting on the couch next to him. Dylan glanced at the clock. It had only been 3 hours since he had started The-Book-That-Shall-Not-Be-named. Dylan was surprised. He thought he had been reading a lot longer. It turns out that time passes slowly when you're reading a bad book.

Dylan wanted to say his real thoughts on the book but didn't want to hurt Nudge's feelings. So he put on a fake smile that he hoped looked convincing. "It was great!" he lied.

Nudge smiled. She pulled something out from behind her back. It was a book with a flower on it. On it were words…a title…no…NO…he refused to believe it...

"Since you liked Twilight so much, you can read New Moon now!" Nudge said enthusiastically. Dylan looked at her with horror apparent on his face. She honestly expected him to read the _second_ book in that horrid series?

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" he yelled, jumping up from the couch and running away. That was when his brain, worried about having to put up with another Twilight book, decided to stop working. It decided that death was better than putting up with _that_. His heart soon followed suit and stopped working as well. Dylan was dead. His body fell to the ground.

Nudge looked at Dylan with wide eyes, not really comprehending what she was seeing. She hadn't really expected Dylan to _die_. So maybe she realized Twilight could put him into a coma, but she had never thought that he would actually _die_. Nudge touched Dylan's skin. It was already dropping in temperature.

Nudge was in so much trouble.

**AN: I don't like this chapter very much but whatever. The fairies thing was something UNDERLANDERfromtheOVERLAND said; I take no credit for it. **

**Review?**


	6. Mirrors and Marshmallows?

**AN: Hey, people! I was bored so I decided to kill Dylan again. I feel like I'm using all of my funniness for my Catching Fire parody, so this chapter isn't very funny. I can't seem to write humor for any stories other than Drenched in Water and Nico's Man Diary. Strange… **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride or the idea for this chapter. Credit goes to Siriusly Chibi (who is awesome, by the way). **

Dylan lay on the bed. "This is so good," he moaned.

What was he doing?

Eating a marshmallow.

Bet you thought he was doing something else, huh?

Yes, Max's "Perfect Other Half" was sitting on his bed stuffing marshmallows into his mouth. Somewhere in the house, a very confused Iggy was asking himself who stole his marshmallows. Of course, he would find out eventually (seeing that that Dylan wasn't smart enough to dispose of the evidence that he had taken the marshmallows. Namely, the bag that the marshmallows were in). But by the time Iggy found out, Dylan would be dead, so it didn't really matter.

Dylan didn't care that a marshmallow-less Iggy would be mad at him; all he cared about were the marshmallows in front of him. They tasted so damn good. He put one in his mouth, savoring the taste of it. Dylan was going to be on a sugar high from all the marshmallows he had eaten, but he didn't care about that either. There wasn't enough room in his tiny brain to.

He looked out his window. There didn't seem to be an assassin, ninjas, a girl disguised as a boy, Navy SEALs, or a horrible book with a cover that was probably supposed to symbolize something (fail) outside of it, so he guessed that maybe he wouldn't die that day. Of course, Dylan was wrong. No surprise there. He was wrong about many things. He was wrong about Max liking him because he was so "hawt" (as he put it).

"Where are my damn marshmallows?" Iggy yelled, the sound muffled by the closed door of Dylan's bedroom. Dylan continued to eat his marshmallows without a care in the world. Iggy didn't bother to check if Dylan had stolen them, believing that Dylan didn't have the brains to. Actually, the only reason Dylan had gotten a hold of them was because Gazzy had stolen them.

Flashback

_Gazzy ran out of Iggy's room, trying to be sneaky about it. He was holding a bag of marshmallows in his hand. He glanced over his shoulder furtively, expecting Iggy to be chasing him because his marshmallows had been stolen. Of course, Iggy hadn't noticed. He had been too busy listening to High School Musical songs. In fact, Gazzy could still hear Iggy singing in his bedroom. _

"_We're all in this together!" Iggy bellowed, probably unaware that he was singing out loud. Gazzy groaned. _We're all in this together, my ass,_ he thought. _

_Dylan was walking out this room, whistling a little happy tune. Gazzy, who was looking over his shoulder, accidentally ran into him. The bag of marshmallows flew from Gazzy's hands and all the marshmallows spilled out, falling onto the floor. Gazzy looked at the marshmallows in disgust—it had been a particularly dusty part of the floor they had fallen onto. _

"_I think I'll just go steal some cookies from Max," he said. "Dylan, go throw the marshmallows away for me," he told Dylan._

_Dylan nodded, but had no intention of doing what Gazzy told him to do. As soon as Gazzy walked away, Dylan scooped the marshmallows into the bag. He then proceeded to walk into his room, where he started eating the marshmallows even though they were covered in dust._

_Dylan wasn't very smart. _

_This is the guy who called himself "hawt", people. _

_What do you expect?_

End Flashback

Dylan marveled at the pretty dust that covered the marshmallows. He vaguely wondered if it was healthy for him to eat them. His brain did not have the capacity to decide this, so he just put another marshmallow into his mouth. He wanted to roast the marshmallows, but he was afraid that if he made a fire outside, Iggy would find out that Dylan had his marshmallows.

But he wanted roasted marshmallows _so bad_.

He also needed to use the bathroom really badly, but that was a story for another time.

There was a mirror on his bedside table. It was a pretty mirror. Very shiny. Dylan had admired himself in it many times before, telling himself how hawt he was.

Multiple fangirls reading this are probably sharpening their knives.

I know a certain fangirl who's typing this is.

The sharp knife looks very pretty, indeed.

Dylan, unaware that many people around the world were plotting his death, continued to eat the marshmallows.

"These taste really good," he said to himself. Isn't talking to yourself a sign of insanity? Or was that talking to inanimate objects?

Dylan looked at the book sitting next to him on the bed—he had been reading it before he had started eating the marshmallows. "These marshmallows are really good," he said to the book (well, _now _he's talking to inanimate objects). "Do you want one?" he asked the book, momentarily forgetting that the book couldn't answer. When the book didn't answer, Dylan giggled to himself. "Oh, you're a book. Of course you can't answer."

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

He looked in the mirror so that he could tell himself how hawt he looked…

And choked on his marshmallow.

His appearance had scared him so much. He had looked…ugly. He didn't know why he looked bad all of a sudden, but it had shocked him greatly. He didn't know that it was how he looked most of the time and he was just deceiving himself those other times when he had called himself "hawt".

The marshmallows had made him see the truth.

The marshmallow got stuck in his throat and he couldn't get it out. It was getting hard to breath. Dylan's face turned a lovely shade of blue.

"Help me," he managed to gasp, his voice barely above a whisper. Nobody heard him, as the only person in the immediate vicinity was Iggy, who was still on his quest to find the marshmallow thief.

Dylan knew he was seconds away from death. He saw his life flash before his eyes. Seeing as he hadn't been alive all that long, he felt depressed. He hadn't even done anything important in his life! Well, except basically telling Fang he needed to leave the flock.

Fangirls, sharpen your knives.

Dylan's last act was to grab a rock that happened to be conveniently placed on his bed and throw it at the mirror. There was a loud noise and the mirror cracked jaggedly, some pieces falling to the floor. And we all know what a cracked mirror means.

Seven years of bad luck.

Dylan cursed under his breath, hoping that with his death, he would be able to escape the curse placed upon him. He didn't know that the only thing that would get him out of his bad luck curse was eating a cookie. But of course, Dylan had no time to eat cookies.

Dylan died alone.

So now Dylan had seven years of bad luck.

In death.

Good luck with that.

**AN: Next chapter will feature Bob the Vampire Zombie, for those of you who know him. Hehe. **

**Review?**


	7. Attack of the Vampire Zombie

**AN: I was going to update Drenched in Water today, but I somehow lost my copy of Catching Fire. Oops… I blamed Dylan (I like blaming Dylan). So I decided to kill him again! For those of you who read Drenched in Water (if you read The Hunger Games, you should!), I might still update today. As soon as I find my book... I was actually going to update that yesterday, but I got distracted by a three-way Gmail chat about random crap. Least of all, the genders of Pokémon, chickens, world domination, and how FANG sucked. For those of you not acquainted with Bob the Vampire Zombie, he can only grunt. He can't speak English. And he doesn't sparkle. **

Bob the Vampire Zombie had a new mission. What was that mission, you may ask?

Erase all traces of Justin Bieber from the world, of course!

Bob would have been perfectly happy if he had been ignorant of Justin Bieber. Ignorant of that creepy girl masquerading as a boy who was taking over the minds of innocent teenage girls everywhere. He would've been happy if he had never heard a Justin Bieber song in his life. In this case, ignorance truly was bliss.

But alas, ignorance wouldn't last. Because one day, he was shown a Justin Bieber music video. At first, he had thought it was a girl, but on closer inspection, it looked like a boy. Sort of. He then resolved to call Justin Bieber an "it". Not a he or a she. An "it". Because that was what it was. And why the hell were all the girls in its music videos always taller than it anyway? That made it seem even shorter.

Ever since Bob heard Justin wail about his "baby", he found a new mission. You see, Bob liked missions very much. It made him feel like he had a purpose in life. His other mission in life was trying to take over the world, but he was still working on that. All he needed to do was find a _very _big bomb.

Bob was sitting in front of his computer trying to think of a plan for killing Justin Bieber when he got an email from one of his…er, sources. The subject was "URGENT! READ!" Bob frowned. What could it be? Who dared to interrupt him when he was plotting Justin Bieber's demise? The fact that his plotting sucked and he had yet to come up with a feasible plan was irrelevant! The email was going to interrupt his thinking time. Thinking time was very valuable indeed.

Bob decided to delete the email, and tried to think of how he could build an army of chickens to kill Justin Bieber off instead. Maybe he should make a mind controlling device to take over the minds of the chickens and force them to do his bidding. And then they would be able to peck Justin Bieber to death!

Bob was just imagining it with a happy smile when he got the same email he had gotten only a few minutes ago with the same subject again. Dang it, this person was _persistent. _He decided to read the email just to see what it was. He clicked on the email. There in all capitals were the words "WE HAVE FOUND A JUSTIN BIEBER WANNABE. HIS NAME IS DYLAN. GO KILL HIM!"

Underneath was an address of a house in Colorado. Bob grabbed his bacon chainsaw and ran toward the front door. Next to the door was a bag full of special weapons that he had just acquired. Bob spent a minute trying to decide whether he should bring the bag with him or not. After that one moment of hesitation, Bob shrugged and grabbed the bag. It wouldn't hurt to bring some special weapons, right? Bob was out the door when he realized he had forgotten his cookies. He ran back inside as quickly as he could and got some chocolate chip cookies off of the plate of cookies sitting on the kitchen table. He put them in a plastic bag, and then ran out the door again.

Bob hurried to the nearest airport and got on a plane to Colorado. People stared, but he just glared at them, and then walked away. As much as he was tempted to throw his cookies at them, he knew that he would regret it later when he actually wanted to eat the cookies. So Bob made his way to the house in Colorado where the Flock lived, intent on destroying the Justin Bieber wannabe. He held his bacon chainsaw in one hand and his bag of special weapons in the other, gripping them tightly.

The flock was inside the house. Bob sighed. There was a very simple way to get into the house, but it wouldn't be any fun. But Bob had no other choice. He didn't think sneaking into the house through a window would be a very good idea, considering that he would be trying to sneak in while holding a bulky bag and a chainsaw. Bob groaned.

And walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell.

Sure, it wasn't exactly the scariest or awesomest way of gaining entrance to the house, but it was effective. Bob hoped that Dylan would be the one to open the door. Then Bob could just kill him and get it over with quickly. Bob had never met Dylan, so he didn't know what he looked like, but he had a good feeling that he would just know when he saw him. He would probably be exuding Justin Bieber vibes. There would be an imaginary sign over his head saying, "I'm a Justin Bieber wannabe!" Then Bob would be able to kill him and go home, happy that he had rid the world of someone who wanted to be just like Justin Bieber.

But no, the person who opened the door was a pretty girl with mocha-colored skin. At first, she wasn't looking at Bob because she was busy texting someone on her phone while holding the door open with one hand. The girl didn't look up from her phone for a whole five minutes. After those five minutes, she finally looked up at Bob. He eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"What the hell are you?" she screamed, trying to shut the door in his face. The girl, who, from information given to him, Bob identified as Nudge, looked thoroughly freaked out.

Bob prevented her from shutting the door by putting his foot between the door and the doorframe.

"Urgh!" he said.

"Go away!" Nudge tried pushing on the door to close it, but Bob wouldn't budge.

"Urgh!" he insisted.

By this time, the rest of the flock had heard the girl's yelling and ran down the stairs to see what was going on. There were 5 other kids—Dylan wasn't there. Bob knew all of their names because his sources had told him. Max, the leader, looked tired, her hair messy and her face pale.

She took one look at Bob and had basically the same reaction Nudge had, but with less screaming. "What the hell?" she asked in disbelief.

"It's okay, Max. This is Bob. He's not evil," Angel said to Max. Bob vaguely remembered that someone had told him that she could read minds. How creepy…

"_Hey, I'm not creepy!"_ a voice in his head said indignantly. _"And I'm the only one who can understand you, so be nice!" _Then the presence in his head, who he presumed was Angel, gave him the mental equivalent of a glare.

"You can read his mind?" Iggy, the blind pyromaniac, asked Angel.

"Yep. He's a vampire zombie," Angel explained.

"Urgh, urgh!" Bob said.

"He comes in peace," Angel translated.

"I thought all vampires sparkled in the sun?" Nudge asked, her hand on her hip.

"Urgh," Bob replied.

"Only the gay ones," Angel translated.

"Are you sure he's not evil?" Max asked Angel.

Angel rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. And he likes chocolate chip cookies as much as you do, so you might want to go into the kitchen and hide them."

Max widened her eyes and ran into the kitchen, probably either to hide the cookies like Angel had suggested or eat all of them before Bob could steal them. Ha! Well, Bob had his own bag of cookies.

"What's he doing here?" Gazzy asked.

"He's on a mission," Angel said.

"To do what? Get sparkly?" Nudge asked, not looking up from her phone.

Angel searched around in Bob's mind a bit. _"You want to kill Dylan?" _she asked him mentally. He gave her a mental nod. _"Be my guest. He's annoying. He hogs the computer. Now I can't Google ways to take over the worl—wait, forget I said that," _Angel said nervously. But Bob didn't care.

"_Urgh,"_ he sad to her mentally.

Angel sighed. _"Fine. When I take over the world, you can have as many bacon chainsaws as you want."_

Bob smiled, happy.

Suddenly, someone walked downstairs. It was Dylan. Bob stood up immediately, glaring at the Justin Bieber look-alike.

"Who are you?" Dylan asked.

"Urgh," Bob grunted. The flock decided to stay out of this. None of them liked Dylan very much anyway. He kept admiring his own reflection constantly. Self-centered much?

"Is that a bacon chainsaw?" Dylan asked Bob, looking at his weapon.

"Urgh," Bob nodded.

Dylan gulped. "Are you going to try to kill me with that thing?" he asked nervously.

Bob considered for a moment, then shook his head. Dylan breathed out a sigh of relief. "Okay, good."

Angel suddenly smiled wickedly. She looked at Bob, raising her eyebrows. "Will it really work?" she asked him. She had seen something in his mind and wanted to be sure. Bob nodded.

Bob searched through his bag of special weapons and pulled out a smaller clear plastic bag. In it was a sparkly pink powder. Bob greatly disapproved of the color, but it did its job. He took out some of the powder and prepared to throw it at Dylan. Dylan was suddenly very, very scared again.

"Um…what's with the pink powder?" he asked.

"As soon as it makes contact with any annoying Justin Bieber-like Gary-Stu, it will dissolve said Gary-Stu. Any last words, Dylan?" Angel said. She fully approved of what Bob was going to do. The flock was looking on impatiently, wondering when Dylan was going to _die _already.

"Remember me as I was, an awesomely awesome person with a brain the size of Einstein's," Dylan said dramatically.

Bob growled, telling Dylan to say something less pathetic-sounding.

"Um…I want my mommy?" Dylan said with wide eyes.

"Urgh," Bob said. (Translation: That's just sad. You were a clone. You have no mother, you bastard.) Angel didn't bother translating because she had a feeling no one really cared anyway.

Bob proceeded to throw the pink powder on Dylan. As soon as it made contact with Dylan's skin, Dylan seemed to literally _melt_. He let out one strangled cry, and then melted into nothingness. After about 10 minutes, all that was left was a pile of clothing. Dylan was no more.

Bob smiled. There was one less Justin Bieber-wannabe in the world.

**AN: Dylan's second to last line was given to me by siriusly chibi. This chapter was definitely not as funny as it could've been, but I think it's okay. **

**Review?**


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